Tough Country Cutts

The approach of Fall gives many fishermen an itch to get back on the water. Dog days of summer have passed and the trout are bulking for winter. Rico and Bow knew the time had come to get back out. Sweet creek seemed feasible, but recent rain blew out all creeks with clay. It wasn't quite time for The X, and Uintah lakes were too busy.

Earlier that season, Bows neighbor Greg explored the area around Scofield. Greg previously fished a stretch of creek full of 12"-16" browns, but didn't get to explore it entirely. One night after a few beers and reminiscing over lost fish, Greg invited Bow to his spot. That next day they packed up and headed down.
The remoteness gave Bow a good feeling, along with the lack of cars. As they walked down to creeks edge, rocks were littered with dragonfly nymph casings. Looking closer, mayfly casings also spotted the ground. Bow tied on a size 18 PMD emerger and sought out shaded pocket water. Greg pulled out a few 12" browns; Bow only managing a few missed strikes. He moved up and saw the occasional rise, but no major hatch. Unsure what to tie on, he turned a few rocks. Squirming scuds and  wriggling mayflies dripped off every stone. Bow had a simple realization: almost every stream and river he fished had scuds or sow bugs. It can be easy to get caught up in mayflies, stoneflies and caddis, as they are featured most in magazines, photos and spend part of their lives in the anglers' view. Scuds receive less attention but comprise a large part of a trouts diet. Accordingly, he tied on a size 20 rainbow scud and worked a deep run. 15 minutes passed without a strike. Everything in Bows body said this stretch held fish, he just had to figure it out. Putting on one piece of shot, Bow also lengthened his indicator and kept casting. Moments later, Bow hit something that seemed to simply drift downstream. Putting pressure on, the line darted up, giving him a much needed shock. A speckled 12" Cutthroat soon tired and greeted an eager Bow.

With a little more reassurance, he headed upstream. A few hours and a few more fish, Bow met back with Greg, keeping two for dinner. That night Bow was unhappy he couldn't pull more fish with the abundant insect life, but relaxed knowing he would figure it out with time.

Bow mentioned the trip to Rico and they both got excited for further exploration. With only two days left of summer, they started the trek.

They were a little hesitant as local fly shops said both sections would be blown out. Staying optimistic, they spent the two hour trip focused on the unknown stretches of stream. They rolled up to a creek filled with clear, slow moving water. The storms hadn't adversely affected it, and no others were fishing. Those present were readying for the elk hunt, but had information on the stream. Most bigger fish were caught well upstream, not near the mouth of the reservoir. Rico and Bow took note, but decided to fish near the inlet anyway. After four hours and Rico sticking only one solid Cutt, the two were surprised. With such good looking water, they wondered where the fish were. They retired back to camp, sipped some Wild Turkey and tucked in for the night.

Pouring rain, bugling elk and a chill greeted them early. Inching out of their sleeping bags, they hoped the weather wouldn't create muttled conditions. Due to yesterdays limited success, it was decided to hike well upstream. Many appetizing stretches tempted Bow, but Rico had patience to keep them both on trail. After a half hour of hiking over rocks, snakes and muddy trail the rain started coming with fervor, eventually accompanied by chest-rattling thunder. Minutes later the rain subsided to return as hail. With extra speed from the wind, hail took its toll, forcing them to hide their hands and face. Another half hour, rough weather subsided but the chill became more severe. Traversing became exceedingly treacherous due to slick mud, loss of coordination, and shivering. The only upside was an increase of good holes as they trekked further along. Beaver ponds spanned the entire length of the creek: one to four feet tall every hundred yards. A little after an hour into the hike, the creek split into two different canyons: this was the place they were looking for. Rico took right and Bow took left, a spark of competition putting extra speed in their step. Rico stopped Bow, pointing out a slow bend. Bow thought nothing of it, but cast to satisfy curiosity. A few short strips later he hooked into an 11" Cutt.

From that point on every hole was productive. Large leeches were the pattern of choice, veering the Cutts across current to hit them. They leap-frogged each hole, one spotting trout for the other. Fish kept getting bigger as they moved up, stretching into the 18" range. Bow anticipated trout every hole and took caution during his approach. One shallow pond didn't seem to have activity; Bow still walking slowly, looked well ahead. A large black spot caught his eye behind a sunken boulder. There sat a robust, rosy-cheeked Cutt, still unaware of Bows presence. He took two steps back, slowly pulled line from the reel and made a few false casts. He plopped the leech well above the Cutt and let it drift. Two subtle twitches and the trout turned to swallow the leech. Bow made the all important pause for the hook set and drove the point deep. Six strong runs and a few head shakes the trout laid over to come in. A twitch of adrenaline and a smile smeared over Bows face; this trout made the everything worth it.

They kept moving, Rico sticking seven from just one stretch. Bow came up to one hole with an overhanging bush and cast. Unhappy with the presentation he brought his fly back, skimming it over the surface. A gold flash shot from the depths but disappeared. Casting again, he stripped through the same area. The flash came once more, this time connecting Bow to a beautiful Cutt.

He picked it up for the picture and noticed what looked like a partially digested fish hanging out. Bow tried removing it only to have more and more expose itself. This wasn't any fish; this trout had eaten an at least eight inch snake. Browns get notoriety as the "eat-anything" carnivores, but this Cutt had eaten a snake over half its own length.

Several hours of solid fishing took the two well into the canyon. They noticed the distance traveled only when rain pounded so hard they couldn't hear what the other was saying. Assessing the numbness: they decided to bushwhack back down. The rain sent them into trees, and the cracks of lighting kept them there. Piles of bones were also found, giving them an extra incentive not to stay too long. Soaked but not spooked, they continued on to the other canyon. A few fat Rainbows were pulled, but the biting cold made even their retrieve difficult.

Further up the activity tapered off so they decided to call it. They hit a few pockets and ponds on the way back, but none held neither size nor numbers of the upper canyon. To their right, a dead pine cracked and slammed down, showing them yet again the country they were in.Finally making it back, there was no better feeling of long sweats, soft slippers and heat from the car. One of their most intense adventures, it was also one of the most satisfying. Working hard paid off with beautiful country and even more beautiful fish. Rico even found a lone Tiger, which would have traveled 4 miles up to get there. They still wonder why those trout were in only one area, reminding Bow of a quote from his grandfather: "Fish are like gold, it's where you find 'em."